Kauma to Yangle Kharka,
via the Shipton La
| There
was no choice today; it had to be boots, as we would be walking on snow
all day.
A sunny morning led to some excellent early walking, and a rare view of Makalu. Drizzle, followed by hail, followed by rain, in hazy and darkening skies, meant that the first of the two main passes was exhausting. And the second pass was very unwelcome. |
Mount Makalu - a little less distant now |
Part of the Shipton La, following the crest |
The
last part was coming down through steep snow, firm in parts but dangerously
slippery in other parts when among half-buried rhododendron bushes.
I fell behind from about halfway; this meant that the steps kicked by earlier walkers were melted and mushy. I had a tough time with the first pass but I found the steep snow on the second pass strangely easier. Coming down was fine until we got to the really slippery bits. I went head over heels at least twice, with many unintended glissades and slippages. |
|
No wonder I was slow today, I was carrying a ball and chain around with me. I kept wondering who was kicking me. Then I realised I was carrying the 'kicker' with me. The strap of my left snow gaiter, which ties under the soles of my boot, had become undone, with the result that the strap had attracted a bigger and bigger ball of ice as the day went on. |
 |
Because of the bad weather, Dawa stopped us about an hour or so before Mumbuk. We were camped upon a steep hill, with my head at the high end and my feet at the low end.
Every time I went off to sleep and woke up I found that my body had slid down and doubled up like a concertina. I would uncoil and then get back to sleep. I would then find myself again in concertina position...
We were over the passes into a high remote land, where there were no lodges or permanently resident humans. Next morning the first two hours or so was spent losing some of our altitude. In the process we reached and passed the mysterious Mumbuk. The latter was like the wartime sausage roll: one bite and you hadn't yet reached the sausage; another bite and you were past it. The walking was very pleasant, however.
|
Dangerous cliffs above the Barun River |
Then
we were into the Barun River valley. We were free from
snow, travelling on big rocks next to the river.
I found it really exhausting; up and down on stones, with occasional sections on paths and occasional stream crossings. Wet feet were the result, while rain and sleet further dampened the spirit. At one section I noticed that Sherpa Pemba, who was walking with me, was particularly nervous. He was trying not to rush me, but I knew that he was desperate to get past the section. Afterwards I discovered that this was a landslide /avalanche area. People had been killed here as recently as last year. |
Dawa abandoned the post-lunch walk because of heavy rains. We were glad to be staying the night here, at Yangle Kharka. We again got good views of nearby middle-sized mountains, but the accustomed haze prevented us from seeing the highest peaks.
Three of the party have got GPS systems or altimeters. It gives me a certain impish pleasure that none of these pieces of high technology equipment can agree on the exact height of this place: estimates range from 11600 to 13000 feet (the itinerary has it at 11700 feet).
Next Shersong And The Anger Of The Gods Back Slippers Before The Snows
